


Runnin' Right Back

by Shaunarnia



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2597372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaunarnia/pseuds/Shaunarnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quarreling with Merle has kind of become a routinely thing now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runnin' Right Back

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I’ve been wanting to write a Merle fic for a while, had a solid idea in my head, and then I realised that Merle is difficult for me to write! I hope I didn’t butcher his character too much. Feel free to let me know what you think!:-)

Merle has really done it this time. There's only so much of his bullshit, misogyny, and racist remarks that you can take before it pushes you over the edge. Sure, he’s changed a little since he first met you at Woodbury. You’ve made a lasting impression on the redneck, and evidently, he’s made an impression on you, too. You’ve just never said the specific words to each other.

“’Ey, c’mon now, sugar tits. Don’ be like that.”

He says in that southern drawl of his, voice low and almost sultry as he stalks towards you. He knows that he’s really pissed you off this time, but you always go running back to him in the end. You aren’t sure why, but you just can’t help yourself.

“You’re such a fuckin’ prick, you know that?” 

You hiss, backing away from him until you're leaning flat against the wall. You have nowhere to run now.

 “Don’tchu fuckin’ speak to ol’ Merle like that, girl.”

He snaps back at you, stepping forward even more. His large frame towers over you, making it impossible to slip away from him after he's closed in on you. You’re the kind that doesn’t take shit from anyone, but you have to admit, Merle can be pretty intimidating when he's like this, especially wielding a blade for a hand. It's sad to say that this is normal between the two of you. The clashes, the grabbing, screaming at the top of your lungs at each other. It's all down to you being as obstinate as he is, but you always make up in the end. Oh yes, making up for it all is always the best bit.

“I’ll speak to you however the hell I wanna speak to you. All I’m askin’ for is you show me lil’ respect.”

“Respect?” he lets out a harsh bark of laughter, “That’s rich comin’ from you, ya prissy bitch.”

You clench your jaw and swing for him, only to have him clutch your wrist before it can connect with him. Good job, too. Probably would’ve broken a finger otherwise.

“Now, now, sweet’eart. I ain’ never hit a woman, but you’re pushin’ me over the damn line.” he lowers his head towards you, staring you directly in the face with those brilliant blue eyes of his, “Ya wouldn’t wanna make ol’ Merle angry now, would ya?”

His tongue briefly flicks out over his bottom lip, wetting it while he glares at you, waiting to see if you'll throw a malicious counter his way. But you don’t. You let out an exasperated sigh before wrapping your free arm around his neck, yanking him down and kissing him hungrily. He releases his grip on your wrist, hooking his good arm around your waist while his prosthetic bayonet rests against the wall.

“That’s right, y’all come runnin’ back wit’cha tail curled ‘tween yer legs.” 

You give him the chance to murmur before pulling him back down for another kiss, but that’s the problem. Merle knows you’ll always give in to him eventually.


End file.
